


Look At The Camera and Say... Frerard!

by romanticizingchemicals



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amazingphil - Freeform, First Meeting, Frerard, Green Day (member mentioned and makes brief appearance), I'm in a V mood..., Internet Friends, M/M, MCR, Mature Humor, My Chem, VidCon, Vloggers, YouTube, because what's a good fic without dirty jokes?, danisnotonfire - Freeform, different first meeting, frank iero - Freeform, gerard way - Freeform, no idea how to tag, sex innuendos, vacuums, vlog, vlogging - Freeform, voluptuous, wow just these tags I can't even, yaaaay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticizingchemicals/pseuds/romanticizingchemicals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>•another fabulous prompt by my good friend geeisajacketslut!•</p><p>"So, you're that cool punk vlogger everyone talks about?"</p><p>"Look who's talking."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taxi Cabs Suck, and So Does Flying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geeisajacketslut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeisajacketslut/gifts).



Gerard's P.O.V.

***

I'm never getting on a plane ever again. Maybe I've forgotten exactly how unbearable my flight anxiety is, but last time I checked, I was forced into this. 

 

_"Gerard, you'll be fine. Hurry up, you're gonna get left behind!" Mikey urges, shoving me through the airplane doors. "Please, Mikey, no!" I squeal, but he's stronger than I am. Screw my scrawny build and absence of strength._

 

Yes, this isn't my fault. It's Mikey's fault. As the plane's passengers flood into the airport, I'm the one very rude, annoying guy that shoves everyone out of the way. At least I have an excuse. Being a famous YouTuber, people recognize me and will immediately want pictures and autographs, but I dislike the attention. In fact, why do I even make these videos? They're quite stupid, and though I enjoy the love sent by viewers all over the world, I still can't help but be saddened by hateful comments and web reviews. So sue me, but being famous isn't exactly the best thing. 

 

That's why I'm wearing the largest hoodie I own, its oversized hood draping over half of my face and making it incredibly difficult to see. Mikey shoves me along as we pick our way through the airport, towards the baggage claim. Even though I despise the attention, Mikey loves it, and refuses to cover up. Everyone who watches my channel knows Mikey, because he's been in almost every single video. From our rants about Star Wars to small songs we'll sing, Mikey just adores seeing himself on the screen of a computer; it's so surreal for him.

 

So even though I'm unrecognizable underneath this jacket, a few people notice Mikey and swarm over to him like bees to honey. He smiles and gives a few hugs, taking some pictures, but not mentioning that I'm hiding underneath the hoodie. Once a small group of giggling girls leave, Mikey joins me again, and I whisper, "Attention whore." He scoffs and threatens to call them back and let them know I'm here, too, so I shut up.

 

About twenty minutes later, our bags are riding along the conveyor belt, and we pick them up quickly in order to get to the hotel as fast as we can. Though we have until tomorrow afternoon, we still need to get set up and check in with the staff and management setting up the VidCon. If I'm going to be completely honest, I'm a tad bit excited for this. I've always wanted to go to one of these things, just to meet my YouTube idols, but now I'm going as one of those select few that run vlogs. And that's kind of a pretty big deal. 

 

"Come on, hurry up," Mikey says through clenched teeth as we make our way towards the line of taxi cabs. We walk along the sidewalk and peer into the windows, trying to find a vacant one. The opportunity comes when a small, yellow cab pulls up to the curb, and Mikey knocks on the window. "Could we catch a ride to Staybridge?" he asks, and the driver nods, rolling the window back up and unlocking the car doors.

 

Mikey and I slip into the back seats of the car, the pungent odor of cat urine filling my nose. My eyes water at the contact, and I screw them shut as I slam the car door behind me. I fucking hate the smell of pee and litter and just... God, it's unbearable. Judging by the hands Mikey places over his nose, I can tell that he doesn't really agree with the scent either. Traffic ensues, the taxi man struggling to even get out of line. 

 

To entertain myself, I pull out my phone and open the camera app, deciding that maybe Instagram will fix it. "Mikes," I whisper, gesturing to the phone and beckoning for him to lean in. We keep the hands over our noses and screw our faces up into the best look of disgust we can manage, and I snap a picture, smiling and looking over at Mikey. He giggles as I show him the photo, and I switch over to Instagram to post it, with the caption: " _Got the cab smelling like cat piss. VidCon, here we come!_ "

 

I post the photo and return my gaze to the driver, who has finally managed to pull away from the steady stream of cars and people. We drive down the road of the airport towards the highway, and once we finally make it to an actual speed, I'm finally at rest. With the promise of a warm hotel bed and a functioning kitchen ahead of me, I smile and lean against Mikey, his black coat warm against my cold cheek. "Excited?" he asks, and I nod. I am. I'm actually stoked, to think of it. Being featured at a VidCon is the coolest thing I can imagine, and it's actually happening. This isn't an empty promise or far-off happening or some silly dream anymore; it's a beautiful reality.

 

***

 

"I'm exhausted," Mikey gasps as we walk through the doors of our hotel room, running to the nearest couch and hurling himself onto it. I chuckle and set down my suitcase and bag, dashing towards the bedroom and jumping onto the cold, freshly made bed. I feel as though it's been forever since I've slept in a decent bed, which it has.

 

I curl up against the pillows, which reek of bleach and chemicals, but I love the way that my face sinks into them. It's so comfortable. Checking my phone after settling into the mound of excessive pillows, I realize that the photo on Instagram has gotten a lot of feedback. I scroll aimlessly through the comments, most of them revolving around "Waycest", some stupid theory and ship that fans have. "God, they're at it again," I call to Mikey, who walks into the room a few seconds later. He leaps into the bed next to me, nuzzling into my shoulder. 

 

"What?" he asks, peering at the screen. I point to some random comment, which says, " _OMFG WAYCEST JSJDIODKD_ ", and Mikey grimaces. "It's only 'cos we kiss on screen all the time," he says blandly, and I roll my eyes. "We're brothers, and this is completely sick," I retort, returning to my profile page, "Besides, I'm _way_ out of your league!" 

 

Mikey chuckles and snatches the phone from my hands, tackling me into a laying position and kneeing my stomach. "I don't think so," he hisses, his glasses nearly falling off of his face. I giggle and push them back up, and we fight a little more before my phone begins to ring. I grunt and push him off, though it's mostly him sliding off of me and less of me doing any pushing. I'm too weak for that shit.

 

I reach out for my phone and answer it, noise and buzzing greeting me as I do. "Gerard?" a familiar voice asks, and I recognize it as the voice of the man at VidCon. I've never actually cared to learn his name, though I know that he's in charge of calling all the vloggers that are asked to attend VidCon and ensure their appearance. "This is he. Do you need me to come and check in?" I reply, and Mikey chimes, "Us!"

 

"Yeah, it's about that time. We're gonna set up some stuff and let you know when your interviews and speeches will be," the man says into the phone, and my heart stops. I hate public speaking, which is ridiculous, but I'd hate to fuck up in front of cameras and people. All live. "O-Okay," I stutter, scratching my neck, "We'll be there in about half an hour, if that works." And it will work, because it's my time I work on, not his. 

 

The man says a few words of farewell and hangs up, and I turn to Mikey, who's flipping through the Directory. "We've got to go now," I alert him, and he looks up and nods.

 

"Time to go make a difference."


	2. Do You Remember That Day When We Met?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to throw in a chapter before school...

Frank's P.O.V.

***

This cannot be happening. I can't be in fucking California, at VidCon, of all places. Not as a spectator this time, but as an actual guest. A widely loved and respected vlogger. God, I love all of this attention, and the fans know that. I'll get really cocky about it sometimes, too, but I keep my pride at a minimum as I approach a group of staff members setting up a stage and some concession stands. "Excuse me?" I ask quietly, and the group goes silent to look at me. "Oh, Frank!" one cries, tucking their clipboard under their arm and sticking out their hand.

 

I shake it hesitantly, because I'm not a real touchy-feely guy. I don't like handshakes. Too many germs. 

 

"Hey," I say dryly, greeting the other members of the group. "You're one of the first here. We're waiting on a few more, including Troye, Tyler, Gerard, and Zoella. Dan and Phil got here a few hours ago, and they're... Where are they?" one of them rants, and some people scoot past us. I nod, not really interested. "Great," I reply, and shove my hands in my pockets, "So where do I go exactly?" One of the men points in the general direction of a pair of double-doors, so I thank him and pad towards them, opening the doors.

 

Beyond them lay a large room of several other rooms, which I believe may be dressing areas to one extent or another. This suspicion is confirmed as I read the labels on the doors, which read various YouTubers' names. I mouth each one until I reach my own, " _frnkiero (Frank Iero)_ ". Beside mine is a door marked " _BabyG (Gerard Way)_ ", and I stop breathing for a split second. Gerard fucking Way is here? I remember the guys telling me that they were waiting for him, but here's the physical proof. And he's right next to my dressing room. 

 

Gerard is actually the vlogger that inspired me to begin creating videos. After months of binge-watching his many videos and waiting for the next ones to come out, I began to adventure and make some of my own, voicing my opinions on things, doing stupid shit with my friends and by myself, and some other stuff. Though the fame came slowly, it rushed in as I came out to the viewers at gay, and you know how they eat up gay vloggers. Just like how Harry Potter loves his pumpkin pasties. 

 

Fuck yes, Harry Potter references.

 

"No, my eyes are blue. I refuse to listen to you," a very British voice cuts across my thoughts, and a pair of footsteps approach me. Well, _two_ pairs of footsteps. "Sorry to break this to you," another voice replies, "but your eyes are brown."

 

Dan and Phil. Fucking hell, I feel famous.

 

One of the two bump into me, apologizing over and over again before helping me regain my balance. "Oh my God, Phil, you're so clumsy and rude," Dan says sardonically, looks up at me, and squeals, "Look! It's Frank Iero! Oh my goody gosh, look!" I blush and scratch my neck, grinning.

 

"Dan! Phil!" I cry enthusiastically, deciding to neglect the fact that I'm approaching my twenties and I'm technically a grown man. What? Guys can fangirl, too. Or fanboy, whatever you want to call it. There's a brief exchange of hugs and words of admiration. "And you're such an amazing guitar player!" Phil compliments, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, thanks," I reply sheepishly, "You both look fabulous in flower crowns. I'll admit, after watching that episode, I went out and bought my own."

 

"Yeah, we know. We saw it on that one episode you had, with the reaction to modern fashion. That had to be one of my favorites!"

 

"Oh my gosh, I loved that one! Oh, and then the one where you were talking about those stupid challenges like the Cinnamon Challenge... Oh and the whole 'good girl/bad guy' thing!" Phil adds, and we all turn into giggling messes. It's true, I do love making reaction videos, and having famous YouTubers compliment that is like the best cup of coffee plus a plush blanket by a fire. Amazing, to be honest. "You guys make amazing videos. A lot of your videos inspire mine, and I just love your humor. You're both amazing," I admit before slipping into my dressing room, closing the door softly behind me.

 

Two internet heroes down, a few more to go. I still need to meet Troye and Tyler, and I'm not sure where Zoella is. But most of all, I'm waiting to meet Gee. He's been the most influential for me, and I'd do anything to be in a few of his videos. I look around my new dressing room and nod, noticing a basket of food. With a sudden lurch of my stomach, I realize the aching hunger that I've been trying to ignore since my plane came in last night, and I quickly grab a pack of almonds.

 

They should tie me over for a little while, so I open the package and lean my head back, tilting the whole bag into my mouth. They're stale and flavorless, but it's better than nothing. A knock at my door and I'm nearly flying through the ceiling, and I throw the almonds down and almost choke. Coughing and sputtering, almond chunks flying everywhere, I answer the door, covering my mouth, my eyes streaming. And who else would it be than Gerard Way?

 

Because that's exactly who's here, witnessing my choking session.

 

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" he asks nervously, pounding my back and furrowing his brow in concentration. What a way to make an impression, Frank. "I'm–okay–" I stutter through wild coughs, and I eventually calm down. My throat is dying, and I cough dryly a few more times. Gerard runs into the dressing room and grabs me a bottle of water, opening it and handing it to me.

 

I take it graciously and chug a few gulps, the relief amazing. I haven't even had anything to drink for a few hours, so I'm parched. Gerard just stands there and watches me with wide eyes, and sighs with relief as I cough one last time. "You okay?" he asks, and I nod. "Sorry, I'm obviously terrible at first impressions," I apologize, and he chuckles. To actually witness that laugh in real life is a gem. Okay, I've always been attracted to Gerard over the camera, and in person, my attraction has been amplified. 

 

He's fucking hot. His uneven black hair falls messily over his forehead, and he sweeps the strands away from his face, only to have them fall back. It's adorable. 

 

"I'm Frank," I introduce myself, smiling.

 

"So, you're that cool punk vlogger everyone talks about?"

 

"Look who's talking."

 

We chuckle dryly, and then there's an awkward silence. "Man," I say breathlessly, running a hand through my hair, "To meet you in person is amazing. You inspired me to start..." I admit this with red cheeks, and he giggles. "Glad to hear it. But the guy told me to come get you. It's real great to meet you, and you know, you're even cuter in real life," he says before leaving my room, closing the door quietly and winking as he leaves.

 

What? 

 


	3. But You Never Had A Chance

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

 

I'm a fucking idiot. Why would I leave him with such suspenseful words, and then hope he doesn't come back and ask about it? Why can't I just keep my goddamn mouth shut? Cheeks blazing and hands to my face in regret, I pace towards the double-doors and return to the group of gathered vloggers and the council of VidCon. I had been sent to retrieve Dan, Phil, and Frank, and had done so with excitement. I love Dan and Phil, and I especially adore Frank.

 

What I wouldn't give to have him in some of my videos, as my cute punk boyfriend, kissing me instead of Mikey embarrassing me like that and causing the whole Waycest thing. That'd be so much better! But no, I had to go and screw it up, just goggling at Frank like he was a fucking piece of art as he choked, only coming to my senses a few moments later. What was I even thinking?

 

I know that he lives in New Jersey, but even if we lived close to each other, he wouldn't ever want to be in a relationship with me. For one, I feel as though a lot of friendships get ruined when publicized over websites like YouTube. For example, I feel like maybe Dan and Phil are going to part ways one day, because televised relationships never fair well. However, may I be the first to say that yes, I think that they'd make an adorable couple. In fact, I believe that if they made a video of them kissing or even making out, I would watch that shit for hours, play it on loop, even. 

 

I'm fucking creepy.

 

"Boo," Mikey whispers, shoving me slightly and causing me to jump. I smack him as my heart leaps, frowning at him. "Don't scare me like that," I reprimand, and he giggles. "Such a scaredy cat. Did you meet everyone? Did you get autographs for me?" he asks, batting his eyes.

 

I scoff and shake my head, crossing my arms. "No, that's thirsty. Just accept that no one will love you and get over it," I tell him seriously, and he gasps mockingly. "You lie!" I roll my eyes and shove him to the side, and one of the people in charge of setting up VidCon approach the group of chattering vloggers. Zoella has finally made it, as well as Troye and Tyler. Now we're just waiting on Frank to get his ass out here.

 

The man claps his hands and holds up his clipboard. "Okay, everyone," he calls, and there's an echo as Frank comes through the double-doors. I quickly look away from his direction and feel my face redden, hoping that I'll be able to pass it off as sunburn, and turn my attention back to the man. "You all know what time VidCon starts tomorrow, and be here a few hours prior to that time so that you can get your makeup done if you want and greet the V.I.P. kids... Let me run the schedule, and I'll let you know when all the interviews are planned to be run."

 

The time drags by, and I notice that Frank is standing next to me, hands in pockets, burning holes into my head as he glares at me. I can't look. Don't look. Don't...

 

"You're cuter in person, too," Frank whispers, and if it's possible, my cheeks get even redder. Fuck. Just... Things have really changed. So either he's just saying that or he's actually interested in me. Hopefully it's the second one. "Oh," is all I can manage, and Frank giggles, scratching the scorpion tattoo behind his ear and on his neck. That's another thing about Frank. He has the coolest tattoos, and whenever I watch his videos, I'll just stare at them, even pause them at times just to trace the gorgeous artwork. I'm a huge fan of art, as I'm an aspiring comic artist, but Frank is just a museum. Everything about him is a masterpiece, and sue me for being so cliché, but I can't help it.

 

Mikey nudges me closer to Frank, and I draw in a sharp breath, noticing how short Frank is. As if he can read my mind, he shakes his head, and warns, "Don't even think about commenting on my height. Yes, I'm tiny. Yes, I know." I giggle and watch as Phil and Dan fight over a microphone. "I want this one. There are two," Dan cries, shoving Phil and snatching the microphone from him.

 

"Guys, the microphone is just for practice. It's just for checking that everything works," someone tells them irritably, but that doesn't stop them from fighting over it.

 

Everyone watches with amusement, and Zoella approaches me with a smile. "You must be Gerard," she says, and I nod, shaking her hand. I don't actually watch a lot of her videos, and I've only watched maybe three. She's pretty, yes, but I'm gay, so I'm not into girls. But she's gorgeous, and amazing at her hair and makeup. My eyeliner application skills are pitiful compared to hers. "And you're Zoella," I reply, to which she nods.

 

Okay then.

 

She moves over to Frank, who grins and waves, though totally rejects the hand she sticks out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you," she says, and Frank nods. And then Troye and Tyler start arguing a little too loudly, over nothing, really. "No, I have better hair. Do you see this volume?" Tyler boasts, pointing to his blonde hair. It's tinted brown around the roots, and I love his hair so much. 

 

I think that I have a very unhealthy obsession with hair, whether it be my own or someone else's. I'm ridiculous. "So, how's your hotel? I think we're staying in the same one, if you're in Staybridge," Frank says quietly, and then stutters, "I mean, of course you are. That's the one they payed for us to stay in... Ah, sorry." I giggle and then remember that yes, all of these YouTubers are in the same hotel as I am. 

 

"It's great," I reply, amused, "And yeah, we're in the same hotel. Maybe we could hang out sometime?" It's a stretch, but I really like Frank, and the promise of getting to know someone that I've been dying to meet drives me to ask the question. He nods a bit too eagerly, and I'm convinced that he shares these feelings I'm having. Maybe he actually does like me. Maybe he's interested in me. 

 

Maybe I have a chance.


	4. Can We Settle Up The Scores?

Frank's P.O.V.

***

"Two coffees for Frank," I tell the barista as I hand him a twenty dollar bill, because it's all I have, and as an afterthought, I add, "Three coffees, sorry." Though slightly irritated, the man nods and sets about making three normal coffees, and I take out my phone to update my Instagram, because I'm a basic white girl at heart. Yeah, I'm at Starbucks, currently wearing a very large Nirvana sweater over skinny yellow jeans. On my phone. Chewing gum.

 

Screw it, I'm just an all around white girl.

 

There's not too much to report on Instagram, besides the many comments on my most recent photo, which is a selfie of me frowning at a cup of spilt coffee. Yes, when the plane had landed at the airport last night, I had gone straight to a coffee shop for the caffeine, because I was tired as fuck. And after getting some free coffee, since the barista recognized me from my YouTube channel, I had gone and spilled it everywhere. What happened was that had I tripped over my untied shoelaces, and then spilled the amazing gift all over the place.

 

Speaking of amazing gifts... I have narrowed down my deductions from what Gerard had said to two options:

 

a. He likes me like I like him and he wants to fuck sometime soon.

 

Or:

 

b. He just wants to be friends.

 

And I'm praying that it's the first one, because I have a feeling that Gee has been given a generous amount of dick. Even though he's said it in several of his videos, I still can't get over my belief that he has a fairly large member. I mean, really... My mind wanders to one of these videos, and I get lost in thought.

 

_"Mikey, kindly fuck off. I'm trying to record and your ugly face is polluting my camera screen," Gee whines at his brother, pushing him roughly off of the bed. Mikey squeals and laughs, regaining his balance. "I already do, and speaking of fucking, Gerard's a virgin," he yells as Gerard stands up and pushes him out of the room, and Gee returns to the bed._

_He rolls his eyes but runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, fine, I am a virgin. But you know what? This big dick is fine being left to my hands. I don't really care about publicizing this, but yes, like any normal, horny teenager, I masturbate. And just because no one feels like fucking me, I'll just pretend that I get laid on a regular basis."_

 

The barista's irritated cough transports me back to reality, and I glance at him and the three steaming coffees in the to-go cups. "Thank you kindly," I say, shoving my phone back into my pocket and taking up all three coffees in my shaking hands. I'm probably going to drop them, but as long as I'm careful, I should be able to walk two hundred feet to the hotel, board the elevator, and walk to Gee's room. Don't ask how I know where he's staying. 

 

Okay, it's because I asked his brother, who refused to answer, so I asked the guy in charge of transporting us to California and renting out the hotel rooms for us. He finally gave in after a little bit of coaxing, and told me that Gerard was in the room to the left of mine. And that makes it way easier than I thought. I turn around, back to the doors of Starbucks, and push, nearly toppling backwards as I collide with the air. It's extremely windy outside, and I'm not exactly sure how to react to this weather. I don't know if I like it or despise it, so I decide to remain neutral for the moment and quickly walk to the hotel, which is conveniently located right next to Starbucks.

 

And that's a good thing, because I hate walking.

 

Once I reach the hotel, I open the doors and shoot a quick smile to the lobbyist, walking past the people occupying the lobby and to the elevator, where another man is waiting for a vacancy. He regards me with a swift nod, clad in a pressed and ironed business suit. With a pursing of my lips, I decide that he's probably a businessman on a business trip, and I get incredibly tired of the word "business". It's so drab and boring and just... Bleh. All I can think of when I hear the word is work, which is something I dread but must face on a regular basis. 

 

The elevator arrives with a soft _ding_ , and I gesture with a small nod for the businessman to go in before me. He does so with a brief word of thanks, and I follow him. Luckily, he notices that my hands are full and that I can't even move without shaking, and he asks, "What floor?" 

 

"Three."

 

The guy nods and presses the "2" and "3" buttons, stepping back and watching as the doors slide close. The ride up is incredibly awkward, with the man staring at the closed doors and me leaning back on my heels, trying not to comment on the man's terrible ability of matching colors. He's wearing a dark gray suit, and around his neck is a bright red tie. Dear God, it's an eyesore. I can't even look at him to be honest, so I look at the coffee cups instead. 

 

The barista's handwriting is borderline illegible, and I scoff inwardly at his inability to write decently. What is up with everyone today? As we reach the second floor, the doors slide open and the man leaves me, and once the doors close again, I let out a relieved breath. He made me kind of nervous, actually. Then again, a lot of people make me nervous, in good ways and bad ways. Good ways include making my stomach flutter or making me blush, like Gerard. And bad ways include me despising their existence, them possibly posing as some sort of pedophile with the desire to rape me, and more. 

 

I don't know how to classify Boring Businessman. Maybe... Stranger Danger?

 

The elevator ascends again, causing my stomach to drop, and I draw another breath, trying to ignore my fear of small spaces. Come to think of it, this elevator is incredibly cramped, and the steel walls only make me feel more contained. And containment is something that I can't bear. Just as I begin to feel dizzy and tipsy, the elevator _ding'_ s again, and the doors part to reveal my floor. I quickly stumble out of the elevator, and by some grace, I don't spill the coffee. 

 

Making my way down the hallway, I glance at the door numbers, counting them off by mouthing the numbers. When I reach room 107, a stop and glance to the left at 105, which is Gerard's room. With my foot, since my hands are full, I kick the door twice, clenching my teeth. He better be here, because if not, I have no idea how I'm going to get into my room with stuffed hands. To my great delight, there's a soft shuffling behind the door, and a small click as someone unlocks it. 

 

Gerard's anxious face appears in the crack, glancing out at me suspiciously. Once he recognizes me, he heaves a huge sigh of relief and opens up the door for me, and I shuffle in with a smile. "Hi friend!" I say eagerly, slipping past him and to the counter, setting down the coffees carefully and running a hand through my hair. I survived. Maybe I should be in the next novel of the "I Survived..." series. Yeah.

 

"Hey, friend," Gerard replies, locking up the door again and following me, leaning against the counter, "Do one of these happen to be mine?" I roll my eyes and retort, "No, they're all for me. Yes, one's for you. Where's Mikey?" Gee giggles and takes a coffee, taking a long sip from the scolding coffee, and licking his lips as he sets the cup back down. Oh, and he has very pretty lips. They're pink and they look so soft even though they're chapped as fuck and... No. I can't fantasize right now. "How do you know my brother's name? Oh, wait," he starts, realizing that his brother is literally in every YouTube video he posts, "Sorry. I forget that I even run a vlog at times. And he's sleeping right now, so I'm not bothering him. I'll just drink his coffee. What's up?" Maybe I've forgotten what it's like to have a normal conversation with someone, because the phrase "what's up" is somewhat new to me.

 

No one actually asks me that on a regular basis.

 

I bite my cheek, and then say, "Nothing. Just wanted to come over and hang out, because I'm a lonely child and I just want a friend." And it's pathetic and true. Gerard sighs and grins. "Well it's a good thing I'm here then," he replies softly, sipping from his coffee again, "We can do whatever you want. It's cool because they have a T.V. out here, so if you wanted to cuddle up and watch whatever's on, that's totally chill." 

 

And then he realizes that he had said "cuddle up", and he reddens, just like I am. "I mean–" But I cut him off by nodding. "Cuddling would be nice. I bet you're a great cuddler," I say quietly, smirking at how nervous I make him. Okay, where the fuck is this all coming from? What am I saying? Gerard's eyebrows raise, and he nods, grabbing my wrist and his coffee and leading us both to the couch in the small living room. This is definitely the nicest hotel that I've ever been in.

 

I throw myself into the couch, and Gerard leans forward to grab the remote. He turns on the television, and as it buzzes to life, he pulls out his phone and leans into me, his head on my shoulder. Okay, so things are moving really fast. I cannot believe that I woke up this morning, so excited at just the idea of _meeting_ Gee, and now we're fucking _cuddling_. "A quick picture!" he squeaks, and I chuckle but smile as he takes a picture, his fingers flying over the screen as he posts the picture on Instagram. "You're too cute," he giggles, and I warm up instantly. Someone calls me cute and I nearly have an orgasm, gosh. What's my issue? Maybe I just need to get out more.

 

"We should take a quick video. It won't hurt," I suggest, and he nods as I take out my phone. I open up my frequently used camera app and flip to the video option, saying, "Okay, just say some random shit about being super stoked for tomorrow." Gee nods and clears his throat, and I press the recording button. 

 

"Hey everyone! I'm Frank, and this is Gerard–"

 

"Hi!"

 

"And we're just here to tell you how excited we are to see you all at VidCon tomorrow. We met earlier today, and as you can tell, Gerard is extremely clingy."

 

"Umm, no, you're the one who came over."

 

"Don't listen to him. Anyways, we're just so excited to see you all at VidCon, and remember to stay in school."

 

"Drugs are bad!"

 

"Crack is whack!"

 

And just before I stop the video by waving, Gerard adds, "And Frank is a great boyfriend!" 

 

And that's when my heart stops. Dead stops. This is how I die. I'm so red that one could hardly differ me from a ripe tomato, and I feel warmer than the hot sand of a Hawaiian beach. I turn to Gerard, my recording hand slowly falling back into my lap, and I open my mouth to say something, but am cut off my Gerard fucking _kissing_ me. And the only thing going through my mind is _holy fuck oh my gosh what's happening Gerard is fucking kissing me why what life I don't know please oh gosh this is heaven what is this heaven ah_. 

 

I can't function. 

 

I find myself kissing him back, not stopping until I run out of breath, and even then, I pull back as slowly as possible, taking in sharp and long breaths. "What... What was...?" I try to ask, but Gerard just turns his attention back to the television and leans against my chest. "Hope you don't mind, but I'm using you as a pillow."

 

"You just kissed me!"

 

" _So?_ "

 

I give him an incredulous glare and raise my eyebrows. "Unless you make a habit of kissing random people, then explain to me how that was normal," I say wildly, and he shrugs. "I thought that it was normal to kiss your boyfriend."

 

"I'm your boyfriend now?"

 

"Yeah, if you're fine with that."

 

Of course I'm fine with that. But this is all happening so quickly that I'm concerned for my mental stability. Am I hallucinating? Did I actually fall backwards against the door at Starbucks and pass out, and now I'm seeing things? No, this feels too real. The Gerard in my lap is all too realistic, and this is completely real.

 

"I'm fine with that if you are." 

 

"Then it's settled."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE FRERARD ATTACK!!!
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals


	5. "Awkward" is My Middle Name... More or Less

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

Who is this new Gerard, and where have I put the other one? I'm suddenly confident and really sexy, though I'm always sexy, but that was borderline porn material right there. Well, we didn't do anything sexual, but I'm not too bad at kissing apparently. 

 

I'm alright at it, I guess.

 

I mean, obviously Frank thinks so. And another thing: I just met him, and I was so attracted to him that I demanded him to be my boyfriend and kissed him. Wow. I'm surprised by myself, and that's in the worst way possible. If I can turn into a great, confident boyfriend that's sexy and seductive as fuck, maybe I can turn into a psychotic murderer that's great at hiding bodies, and no one will ever find out about the crime.

 

Maybe, just maybe. I run through all of this in my mind as I lean into Frank's chest, and he's incredibly warm. And maybe these ideas I'm having about him being in my videos will finally come true! Granted, I'm older than him by a few years, and hopefully this doesn't seem too... creepy. I don't want to appear like a pedophile, but having this cute little dude that's probably three or four years younger than me totally _cuddling_ with me is amazing. "You're warm," I finally say, deciding to add some noise instead of the television creating the white noise. 

 

Frank flinches and blinks, but then smiles and rubs small circles on my arm with his thumb. "Thanks?" he says uncertainly, as though it's almost a question, "You are too. How are things happening so quickly?" I shrug and return my attention back to the T.V., on which a random commercial for shampoo is playing. "Probably because you're irresistable, and I'm a potato, so I'm attracted to you. Besides, there's no such thing as too much Frankie," I reply quietly, and he shifts so that my head is in his lap. 

 

"You're a _cute_ potato," he adds, planting a soft and dry kiss on my nose. I giggle and push him away, but that only causes him to attack my face with more kisses. We're a sputtering, sloppy mess, being so loud that we don't hear Mikey wake up and open the door to the bedroom. When I do notice him, though, his eyes are wide, his mouth open, phone in hand. The little fucker is recording the whole thing. But quite frankly, I don't even care. However, when Frank sees Mikey, he gasps and shoots up as fast as a bullet, covering his face in shame.

 

Mikey and I begin to giggle, and Frank slaps my cheek playfully. But it still stings slightly. "Shut up!" he cries, pouting. Mikey taps the screen of his phone a few times, and declares, "I'm posting this, you know." Frank groans, but I'm smiling from ear to ear. People are going to eat this up faster than I can eat pizza, and that's pretty fast.

 

"What a way to meet someone," Mikey teases, and Frank rolls his eyes, burrying his face in his hands. "What's up with me today? I'm leaving the worst first impressions," he mumbles against the fabric of his sweater, and then sighs and sits back up, "I'm Frank." Mikey chuckles and puts his phone back into his pockets, readjusting his glasses so that they're on the very edge of his nose.

 

Do they even help him see at all? Or are they just an accessory? The world may never know.

 

"Yeah, I know. Gee watches your videos all the time, and he strokes you over the screen," Mikey says, and I feel my face warm up as I blush. Why the _fuck_ would he tell him something like that? Sure it's true, but why? Why tell him? "Mikey!" I cry angrily through clenched teeth, and Frank glances down at me and raises his eyebrows. "Who says I don't do the same thing when I watch your videos?" he whispers only loud enough for me to hear him, and to Mikey, he says, "And you're Gerard's brother. You're very annoying and quite intrusive, if I may."

 

Mikey scoffs and looks between Frank and I, furrowing his brow. "I could say the same about you. I wanted a nice and peaceful rest, only to wake up and find you making out with my brother," he retorts, and Frank rolls his eyes. " _Please_ ," he drawls, "I wasn't making out with him. We were simply showing each other affection that you just don't have in your life. You're _jealous_." Mikey rolls his eyes as well and takes his phone out again, staring at the screen.

 

"He's my brother. I'm _not_ jealous. Don't be one of those Waycest supporters. Dear God, _please_ don't be one of those people," Mikey says under his breath, and I scrunch up my nose. If Frank is one of those people, I don't know what I'll do. Just pairing someone with their fucking _brother_ is disgusting. And on top of that, writing fanfictions in which we fuck? That's where it gets creepy. Frank chuckles and shakes his head, saying, "No, God no. That's sick. Besides, 'Frerard' is a thing now." I glance up at him curiously, and he adds, "Frank plus Gerard. _Frerard_."

 

I mouth an understanding "oh", and then we turn to Mikey, who shrugs with the slightest hint at a smile. Which is really surprising, because he doesn't really smile around other people. "I can see that," he states, holding up his screen for us to see, "And so can the rest of the Instagrammers following me and you guys. I tagged you, you're welcome." While Frank grimaces and covers his eyes again, I grin widely, just glad that I may not have to explain the whole relationship thing at VidCon. But of course, there will be many questions about it. And I'll put on a little show for all the teens and possibly adults...? Hopefully not adults, but the teen audience that watches my videos. They're like loyal dogs or something; more bark than bite, with some of the fights they start in the comments section, but I choose to either ignore those disputes or settle them by replying to someone's comment. That normally causes them to swoon or stop, so I find myself doing so quite frequently.

 

"So you posted it on Instagram, where everyone can see," Frank says unbelievingly, shaking his head, "My mother is going to kill me. Speaking of, I should give her a call..." He takes out his phone and scrolls through his contacts upon unlocking it, pressing on a contact labeled "Mia Madre". I smirk and push my head backwards into his lap, which is a really bad idea, because he moans loudly at the sudden action, causing me and Mikey to burst into hysterical laughter. His face is as red as a fire truck by the time his mother answers, and he chokes out a greeting. Even through the phone, I can hear her cry, "Are you dating Gerard Way?"

 

He winces and scratches his neck, but replies, "Y-Yeah, I'm–"

 

"I don't want excuses! How the fuck did you land someone like that? I'm so proud of you!" the unexpected response comes, and Frank's eyes widen, "Oh, you two are too cute! I expect some good stuff at VidCon tomorrow!" Frank opens his mouth to speak, but his mother continues on, "And the only way I know about this is because of the video Mikes posted. You're not the only one who watches their videos! I was the original fan!" We sort of all snicker, and she hears this, screeching, "Is that them? Oh my gosh! Put me on speakerphone, Frankie!" Everything is happening so quickly that Frank nearly drops his phone, but recovers and presses the speakerphone button. 

 

There's a brief moment of static from the other end, and his mother's voice breaks through, "Are they really there?" As an answer, I smile and nod. "Hi!" I say into the microphone, and she squeals like a two-year-old. "Oh my gosh! You're really here! One of the perks of having a famous son!" she cries, and Frank's mouth drops to the floor. "I'm right here!" he yells back, and his mom scoffs. "Yes, dear, I know," she replies, and he crosses his arms, "Anyways. Oh, it's so great to talk to you guys! I've been a huge fan for a while, and Frankie never shuts up about you! I'm so happy! Well, I know you guys need to be rested for tomorrow, but I need some hot stuff tomorrow!

 

"And Frankie, baby, I love you! You'll never know how proud I am of you! Have fun, and please don't get worn out before tomorrow... If you know what I mean." With that, she giggles maliciously and then hangs up, the other end going silent. Frank just sits there, staring blankly at the television. "Your mother seems amazing," I tell him kindly, grabbing his hand and tracing his fingers with my own. Yet I can't help but notice the slight bulge in his pants. I mean, after all, I _did_ push against it on purpose, but still... 

 

The fact that I actually did that is still a little crazy. Surreal. Amazing. I'm proud of that, actually.

 

"Linda," he says simply, tucking his phone away under his other thigh, so as not to disturb my spot. I give him a confused look, and he explains, "My mother's name is Linda. She watches your videos... A lot." I nod and grin, even giggling a little bit. See what he does to me? I'm a fucking mess whenever I watch his videos, to be honest, and having him right here is just so unexpected. "She's a lovely woman, and I can't wait to meet her," I reply softly, and Mikey pretends to gag, so I throw the nearest remote at him. He dodges it, however, and snickers as he bounces towards the door, unlocking the locks that I had worked so hard on to try and figure out. 

 

In fact, I'm terrified of people coming in, which is why I did all the locks. Though you have to have a key, I can never be too careful of maids and management coming in at midnight and murdering me. "Where are you going?" I ask loudly, and Frank runs his hand through my hair carefully, causing me to want to grab his face and just ruin it with kisses. I swear, I'm like a horny teenager. I mean, technically I'm nineteen, but that's close enough. "To get something to eat. I ordered pizza online while you guys were on the phone," Mikey replied quickly, and then opens the door, slipping out of it and waving before disappearing.

 

I immediately look back up at Frank, who's already looking at me. "You're just so hot," he says breathlessly, and I roll my eyes. "Don't be cliché with me. Instead, shut your mouth and make out with me. That'd be a much better use for that skilled mouth of–"

 

He cuts me off by leaning down and kissing me gently, trying to pull back, but I grab him by the nape of his neck and pull him down harder, because why not? I remember Linda's warning of not getting worn out before VidCon, and though I know that Frank and I won't have sex anytime soon, I still know that I'll be tired. 

 

Because that's what this little punk does to me.


	6. Gerard's Butt Looks Amazing In Those Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, those jeans look great on Gee. And Frank obviously thinks so... I mean, who doesn't?

Frank's P.O.V.

***

I don't want to wake up. I don't want to move from this comfortable spot on Gerard's bed, cuddled up next to him, warm and relaxed. But unfortunately, we have to prepare for VidCon. So I grunt as I turn away from my phone, alarm still ringing, and nudge Gee, who mumbles incoherently. I take it as, "Five more minutes." 

 

I can't let him sleep in any more. 

 

"Gerard, wake up," I say over the ringtone of my alarm, sitting up slowly and shoving Gerard with a sock-covered foot, and he groans tiredly. "I don't wanna," he mutters, but rolls over towards me and crushes me like a bulldozer. "No! No!" I cry as his body crashes over mine, squealing when I find it hard to breathe. I'm wriggling beneath him, and he's giggling tiredly. It's adorable, but very painful.

 

Gee finally relents and flips over, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. I'll never ever get used to this... "You guys need to hurry up," Mikey groans from the living room, so I glance at Gerard and sigh, slipping off of the bed and onto the ground. Looking around, I realize that I had left my bags in my own room. How did I not notice this? So I have two options, including going back to my room or borrowing Gerard's clothes. 

 

Judging by his size, the second option isn't going to work out.

 

"I need to go back to my room and get my bag," I tell Gee with a frown, and he makes a pouty face. "Don't leave me!" he whines, tugging at the huge shirt I'm wearing. He had let me borrow some pajamas last night, since I had left my bag, and they're way too big. I push him off and roll my eyes, saying, "You're so clingy. Why?" 

 

"Because you're fucking adorable," he supplies, pecking my forehead before I leave the room, walking through the living room and waving to Mikey. "Good morning," he mutters, and I mock him. This causes him to throw the directory at me, but I dodge it and run to the door, unlocking the many locks that Gee had insisted on doing up. 

 

After I retrieve my suitcase and bag, which I haven't touched since I had arrived at the hotel, I returned to Gerard's room, knocking at the door. Mikey can be heard calling to Gee, who calls back, and I wait impatiently as they yell at each other back and forth. Maybe a minute or so later, Gerard appears in the door half-dressed. He's shirtless, but has on dark red jeans that are tight as fuck. And damn, does he look fine. My eyes linger at the slight bump where his length is for a few seconds longer than socially acceptable, so I finally pull my eyes away and step inside, ghosting Gerard's cheek with my lips.

 

Mikey scoffs and continues to drink the hotel's coffee, smacking his lips at how bitter it is. "This coffee sucks eggs," he remarks, but still sips on the liquid occasionally. He's already dressed, and I'm suddenly the only person in the room still in their pajamas. I purse my lips and decide to just get dressed right here, because we're all dudes and why not? In fact, I still need to change my underwear, so in the split second that Gee and Mikey aren't looking my way, I slip out of the pajamas and slide off the boxers, throwing on a clean pair and taking a breath.

 

Hopefully no one saw the small time span in which I was naked.

 

As I finish dressing, I decide on my Blink-182 shirt and some tight black pants with rips in them. I don't think that I own any loose pants, to be completely honest, but I look great in skinny jeans. And Gerard seems to think so, because when Mikey isn't looking at us, he smacks my butt and whispers, "Your ass is fine in those jeans." Okay then... That escalated quickly. 

 

Gerard has finally put on a shirt, but I wish that he didn't. He's really attractive, whether he be clothed or not. Though he has many stretch marks from his larger days, which made up most of his high school years, he's still really hot. I know this thanks to his many years of videos. "I could say the same to you," I reply, almost in a hiss. He grins and blushes, readjusting his David Bowie shirt and stretching his legs in those skinny jeans. They're borderline way too small, but I still think they're great. Once I slip on a new pair of socks, I scoot over to the bathroom, bag in hand. I keep all of my makeup and supplies in there, though I don't wear makeup too often. 

 

If I feel like putting my signature red "X's" over my eyes, I will, but right now, I'm just feeling eyeliner. After careful application, I move on to putting in my piercings, from my earrings to my lip ring, and then examine my appearance in the mirror over the stark-white sink. To be completely honest, I don't look half bad. I comb out my hair, spike it up a bit in the back, and smile a toothy grin, giggling at myself. I'm such a weirdo, I swear.

 

Gerard slips into the bathroom behind me, hugging me around my waist and looping his thumbs around the loopholes of my pants. "You're too hot," he whispers into my ear, his breath oddly warm, sending very weird shivers down my body. "So is your breath. I'm trying to brush my teeth," I try to distract myself, refusing to think about how close Gerard's hands are to my dick, because that would just be awkward and the opposite of appropriate. Keep it PG, Frankie. Gee rolls his eyes as I pick up my toothbrush and toothpaste from my bag, and he leaves a kiss on my cheek. "Just accept my love, will you?" he asks irritably, walking out of the bathroom and returning with his own toothbrush in hand, borrowing some of my toothpaste and shoving the brush into his mouth.

 

"Make those teeth pearly white," I mumble through a mouth full of toothpaste, and he giggles, shaking his head. "You too," he replies, spitting out the excess toothpaste. Once he finishes his teeth, he grabs his own eyeliner and applies it carefully, but diligently. Obviously, he's done this a million times before. "There, I'm pretty now," he says once he finishes both eyes, blinking a few times and rubbing the eyeliner so that it's smudged. 

 

I watch him as he does so, the effect amazing. I try it myself, and though it's not as great on me as it is on Gerard, it's still really unique. "Such a copycat," Gee teases, slapping me as he sets down his eyeliner, and I roll my eyes. "I was just jealous of how adorable you are," I coo, and Mikey cries, "Do shut up! You're both disgusting! Wait until I'm not in the next room over to flirt!" Chuckling, we exit the bathroom, preparing some more coffee for ourselves and sipping from it as we wait for Mikey to call a cab. Once he does so, we head downstairs, to the lobby, and out the door. 

 

I'm thanking my lucky stars that I remembered to throw on the Misfits hoodie before I left, because it's windy as fuck out here. Gerard is tucked into his large black hoodie, and Mikey wears a black button up coat that makes him look like a vampire. I whisper this to Gee, but Mikey overhears me and slaps me upside the head, sending pain through the area but causing me to laugh. Angry Mikey is so adorable. "There's the cab," he mutters angrily, fidgeting with the collar of the coat. It comes up to his ears, so he desperately tries to fold it down, but it won't budge. As the yellow car approaches, we all step forward a bit, and when it arrives, we slip into the back seat. It's a bit of a squeeze, but we manage.

 

"VidCon," Mikey says, and the man raises an eyebrow, but takes out his phone and looks up the directions. Apparently the convention isn't too popular amongst the middle-aged population.

 

After a selfie or two, posting the pictures on Instagram, we're on our way to the event that I've only been able to dream about for the past few years: VidCon. Gerard messing with my hand, I glance out the window and try to contain the sudden surge of excitement. I'm actually going, and this is very real.


	7. People are Scary

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

People. Noise. Weird smells. Movement. Colors. Too much.

 

Way too much going on.

 

I can hardly comprehend anything that's happening, my own thoughts and anxiety consuming me like a darkness that I can't escape. Frank's hand is held in a death-grip by my own, and I can feel my hand growing number by the second. "It's okay," Frank murmurs for the millionth time, placing the gentle kiss behind my ear. I shudder and nod, eyes darting around the room.

 

Many people are taking pictures and running up to Frank and I with pens and papers, some of them with other merchandise from fan sites or stores like Hot Topic in hand. They're shoving the stuff in our facing, squealing and screaming and just giving me the worst headache I've ever experienced. "Gee!" a girl with flaming red hair exclaims, thrusting a book into my hands. I don't even examine the cover before opening it with shaky hands, attempting to sign my name on the inside.

 

I miss holding Frank's hand. I need a stress ball.

 

"You're such an inspiration! Could I have a picture?" the girl asks, taking out her phone and pushing herself against me. The sudden contact is enough to make me gasp, but the sound is inaudible against the noise being made by the crowds of teenagers and attendees of VidCon. The girl snaps a picture, in which I'm wearing the fakest smile that I've ever seen, and with a final squeal, she runs off. Frank slips an arm around me, nuzzling into my shoulder. "You'll be okay. Do you need a break?"

 

In all honesty, a break would be amazing. However, these are just the V.I.P. kids, and the real crowds haven't even been formed. We have about an hour before VidCon even starts for real, and I can only imagine how many people are going to flood the place. Nervously, I shake my head and draw a shaky breath, convincing myself that I have to go on and that I'll be fine. Frank offers a reassuring grin, slipping his hand into mine and giving it a squeeze. 

 

How is it that we've been boyfriends for not even a day and he's so comfortable with me? I mean, over YouTube, we've known each other for years, watching each others' videos, but never really talking. A few flirtatious words and Frank is basically blackmailed into being my boyfriend, which is unbelievable. And he's so kind and sweet; a hopeless romantic, if anything. "I'll be fine," I tell him with a smile, the fact that he's beside me and holding me diminishing my anxiety a bit, and I sigh. Maybe I'll be okay. Another group of people come over, taking pictures of Frank and I holding hands and asking questions.

 

"How long have you guys been dating?"

 

"What's your favorite thing about Gerard?"

 

"Is Frank a bottom or top?"

 

I feel my cheeks redden and heart rate increase, but Frank readily supplies answers for every question so that I don't have to. "To the first one, we've been dating since yesterday afternoon. Second, I love his smile. It's the best. And I'm a top all the way, for the win," he spouts, glancing over at me and smirking. The little fuck wants me to get a boner, or he would've just ignored the last part. We've never even discussed sex, and the innuendoes we make are simply foolishness, but this? Why would he say these things to fans?

 

"Oh my gosh," I mutter under my breath, fingernails digging into Frank's hand. He winces but chuckles, shrugging it off and walking me through the crowds of people. We stop occasionally for an autograph or picture, and then run straight into Dan and Phil. "Gee! Frank!" Dan yells above the shouting, and we smile at them, "This is your first VidCon. How are you liking it?"

 

I hate it. 

 

"I love it!"

 

Phil giggles and turns to Frank, asking, "What about you? And are you guys actually dating?" The last part he asks in an undertone, glancing from Frank to me. Frank laughs loudly and scratches his nose, and says, "I'm loving this. And yes, we are." Phil cheers and punches Dan's shoulder, who rubs the spot and rolls his eyes, fishing a five dollar bill from his pocket. "Eat dust! I'm gonna go buy myself a Frank and a Gee figurine!" Phil cried victoriously, fist pumping as he runs to a random merchandise stand.

 

Dan grumbles something about how five American dollars aren't even enough to buy a flashlight, but he follows Phil after waving at us. Tyler smiles for another picture, toying with his hair until it's perfect again. The hair...

 

"Frank! Gerard! I'm so glad that you two are dating!" he says once he sees us, throwing his arm around my shoulder, "You're too cute together!" He leaves after patting my shoulder softly, weaving his way through the crowds. I draw a sharp breath and feel Frank tug my arm, leading me over to one of the concession tables. This one sells shirts, and I'm surprised when I see one with my ugly face plastered to the front.

 

Mouth agape, I stutter, "I'm... I'm on a shirt! Holy shit, I'm on a shirt!" Frank laughs and picks one off of the rail, and I admire the detail. The shirt is black, my face and cheesy smile cut out and placed on the front, overlaid dinferential shades of purple in triangles. "Look! You're too cute!" Frank says, holding the shirt up to my body. I shove it away, so he giggles and holds the shirt up to himself. When he sees that it's too large, he switches it out for the smallest size available, which is still slightly oversized, but he runs it over to the managers of the stand and hands over twenty dollars.

 

The person shakes their head and declares, "For you, it's free. I think all merch to the guests are free or reduced in price." Frank thanks her profusely and hugs the shirt to his chest while I blush madly. If he gets a shirt with my face, then it's only fair that I get one with his. I spot one from afar, lacing through the groups of people to the stand and marveling at the merchandise. There are mugs and figurines of many YouTubers, from skydoesminecraft to Zoella. They're all comical and unproportionate, but still adorable. I spot one of Frank and pick it up, along with a mug with many YouTubers on it, and also a sweater with Frank on it. He's holding up a piece of paper that says "homophobia is gay", which is practically his catch phrase. It's a cute one. 

 

When Frank catches up to me, I'm checking out, the cashier only making me pay five dollars for the load. Frank rolls his eyes and buys a figurine of me, and then one of Dan and Phil, along with a mug with my face on it that says "I Love Coffee", which is true. I fucking love coffee.

 

Mikey hobbles over to us finally, and I had almost forgotten that he was here. He's loaded with merch, as he has watched almost every single video from every single famous channel there is on YouTube. "You will not believe the attention I get. Half of this was free!" he cries happily, shifting around his bags and his new hat before darting off towards another stand.

 

Frank and I exchange amused glances and giggle, moving to another stand and taking some pictures. Some boy asks me to sign his shirt, which is white. So I write a small message: "Heroes are ordinary people who make themselves extraordinary... -xo g". I love coming up with quotes or random poems and finding uses for them, and though this whole concept of signing autographs and taking pictures is a bit foreign, the effect I have on people is encouraging. I knew that I was a source of humor for people, but some of these kids are coming up to me and rambling on and on about how I saved their lives. That's surreal. That's amazing.

 

That's inspirational, and I've realized why I make these videos.


	8. One Day, Your Life Will Flash Before Your Eyes... Make Sure It's Worth Watching

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Obviously Gee is incredibly jumpy, nervous, and suffering from some pretty awful social anxiety. From his videos, of course, I know that he has social anxiety disorder, and it's terrible that he has to go through that. I have no idea how he's supposed to make it through today, but maybe if I make him happy enough to where he forgets about his anxiety, then he won't have to deal with it.

 

So, I do all I can to make him laugh, whether it be by making the stupidest faces, talking in the weirdest accents, kissing him, or picking through every concession stand. This seems to work, at least for now, so I continue these actions. "You're such a geek," Gerard remarks as I sit at the face paint area, the artist dabbing black onto my face so that I have the signature Dan and Phil cat whiskers on me. Giggling, I push him lightly, and the artist finishes with a smile.

 

"You look great in them," she says kindly as she takes out her phone, and then asks for a picture. I refuse to take a picture with her until Gee gets his face done to match mine, so, which a hesitant growl, Gerard collapses onto the stool, and the lady smiles and paints on some whiskers for him, too. Once he's done, Gee and I stand on either side of the artist, smiling with the cheesiest grins we can manage, and she hugs us each in turn before we continue our trek. 

 

The normal ticket-holders have begun trickling through the doors, the room suddenly just a mass of bodies and raging hormones. Has no one ever heard of deodorant? "Dear God," I exclaim as a particularly smelly kid passes between us, heading straight for Tyler. Gerard scrunches up his own nose, eyes watering slightly. His grip on my hand tightens again, and I decide that he needs a five-minute break from the crowd. Though it's a struggle, I pull him towards the double-doors of our dressing area, and once we make it, we're stopped by two guards holding back a mass of teenagers. Most of them are girls, and they're doing all they can to bombard the guards.

 

"But I wanna see them!" one cries, tears streaming down their face. I totally get that some YouTubers are hot as hell, and that many change your life and inspire you, but this is absurd. I can hardly even navigate my way through the screaming people, one of the guards sticking out his hand for the identification card that we had gotten when we had first arrived. I suppose that there are several posers and cosplayers, if that's even what they would be called, amidst, so I take out the card and ignore the many flashes and hands rubbing against my body.

 

If this is supposed to turn me on, it isn't working.

 

When the guard finally nods and opens the door a tad, I yank Gerard with me before anyone else can enter, and we dart into the large room with effort. The doors shut behind us, and Gerard's breaths come in small, uneven gasps. His grip relaxes a bit, only to tighten again at regular intervals. Poor Gee. I can't help but pity him, because I can't even begin to imagine the mental distress that he's going through right now. "You okay?" I ask once we reach his dressing room, and we open the door and step in. He nods and draws a steadying breath, and I move him so that he's right in front of me.

 

I look up at him, since I'm considerably shorter, and search his eyes. "Gerard," I say softly, smiling gently as some form of comfort. Okay, so I'm not the best comforter, but I'm trying. He finally looks at my face, and he nods with a grin, still breathing oddly. "I'm okay," he says breathlessly, and someone knocks on the door. Since he's closer, Gerard opens it and peers out, a man with a headset on appearing in the doorway. "You're both on in two minutes. Let's go!" he announces, tapping his clipboard. I read the heading: _Interview Schedule_. 

 

Interviews. _Fuck_.

 

***

 

There are way more people than I thought that there were, and the number in attendance is incredible. There have to be at least a thousand people here, and that's so crazy to me. "Mother of Gee..." I say under my breath, careful to say so away from my microphone. Gerard and I are both sitting on stools, which aren't that comfortable, sort of across from a man that's probably in his forties, though he appears quite young.

 

"Alright. We go live in three, two..." one of the camera-men alert us, holding their thumb up and pointing their camera towards the interviewer, who clears his throat and shifts around his papers. "Hello viewers! I'm Billie Armstrong, live from the 2016 Annual VidCon. I'm here with Gerard Way from the YouTube channel 'BabyG', and his recently acquired boyfriend Frank Iero from the YouTube channel 'frnkiero'. We asked you to send in your questions for these YouTubers, and after careful selection, we have about forty questions," the interviewer says with a smile, glancing from the camera to me and Gerard. Gee smiles at the man and then at the camera, and we both wave.

 

The questioning begins, the onlookers anxious and on the edge of their heels. "First question," Billie Armstrong begins, "'What inspired you to begin vlogging?'" Of course. What other question would you start out with? Gerard glances over at me, as when I motion for him to answer first, he nods and holds the microphone up to his mouth. "Umm... I got inspired by the many other YouTubers and vloggers all over the Internet. I was always so excited for when their latest videos would come out, and I thought that maybe I could film my life for people to laugh at, because... Because it makes me feel a bit better about myself," he stutters, and I feel myself grin. He's so nervous, and it's adorable.

 

"What about you, Frank?" Billie asks, and Gerard turns to stare at me, an anticipatory smile playing across his face. I bite my cheek and purse my lips, and then speak into my microphone, "Gerard actually inspired me a lot. That sounds real cliché, but I always found it so great that he inspired so many others, and I wanted to have that impact on other people, too. Along with many other YouTubers, like Dan and Phil and Tyler and Troye... They all just played such a big part in my life, and I wanted to have that same impact on others." 

 

Gerard's eyes linger on mine a bit longer, and then he turns back to Billie, awaiting the next question. "Okay... So according to the video that you posted on Instagram and the one that your brother also posted, you two are dating. Why so soon? Where did you meet?" _Really?_

 

"Ah," Gee says lightly, grinning at me like a fool, "We are dating, yes. And, I mean, tomorrow is never promised. So why wait? We met here, of course, though we've been watching each others' videos for years. He came over to my hotel room with coffee, so I of course fell in love and was totally sold. He's great at kissing, y'know." Classic Gerard. With a nod, Billie asks the next question, "What's your favorite book, and why?"

 

The questions continue, most of them the simple, getting-to-know-someone questions, though a lot of them revolving around me and Gerard dating. But what else should I have expected? 

 

"What's your favorite thing about Gerard?"

 

"Have you seen each other naked yet?"

 

"What's your favorite color?"

 

These questions just get more and more inappropriate, but I don't even mind. Gerard just answers them with a smile, and I do the same, and once all of the questions have been asked, Billie just makes small talk with us until our hour slot of interviews is over. "So, you've both been in this gig for a while, yes? If anyone wanted to start a YouTube vlogging channel, what would your advice be to them?" 

 

That's a decent question. "Be honest. Don't try to make your life something that it's not. That's probably the most important thing," I begin, looking over at Gee, who's biting his bottom lip, "Never fake your true self. And be nice. I mean, it's great to make a mature joke here and there, but never target anyone in a mean way. By all means, be humorous and yourself, but never in an unkind, hurtful way."

 

"Yeah, don't be mean. There are lots of YouTubers that make fun of modern cultures, from emo to hippies to basic white girls and shit, but don't do that. Sure. Make a small joke about it here or there, but don't make it your life's worth to point out the flaws of other people. Like Frankie said, never pretend to be someone you're not, and be honest with your viewers. Cherish them," Gerard says while looking at his lap, trying to form the right words. This is why he's inspirational to so many kids, because he always knows just what to say.

 

Billie smiles at both of us and thanks us, saying his farewells and shaking our hands and taking photos for the press, and then Gerard and I exit the stage, the crowd cheering, to go to the small "Meet and Greet" we have to attend. 

 

This really has changed my life. I've recognized the importance of my videos and how much of an inspiration they are to some people, and I decide to never stop making them. Even when I'm old and wrinkly, I'll update from my retirement home, I think. That'll be fun.

 

Me and Gerard still making videos from a retirement home would be great. 

 

 


	9. Skeleton Gee (and Frank)

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

*three months later*

 

"Hey there! It's Gerard and Frank. Again."

 

Frank smiles wide, screwing his eyes shut, waving profusely at the camera. I roll my eyes and shake my head. "You're so fucking weird," I tell him in an undertone, and he snorts. "So are you. But I deal with it," he retorts, planting a quick kiss on my nose. I giggle and look back at the camera, continuing the video.

 

" _Anyways_ ," I say, "As you all know, today is Halloween, which means that it's the birthday of my most favorite person ever... Frank fucking Iero!" Frank smiles again and leans further into me, his hair tickling my neck. I have a great idea, actually, and Frank will _love_ this one. "Tell me, Frank, what is a band that you adore that starts with the letter 'M'?" I ask him, and he gasps, throwing his hands over his mouth. "The Misfits!" he exclaims.

 

I laugh at his excitement and nod. "That's right. And what's their logo? Their memorable symbol? The thing on your favorite hoodie?" I continue, and he squeals. "A skull!" he cries, and I nod again. "That's right!" I reply, leaning over the bed to pick up a bag that I had gotten earlier at Target. Though the store was crowded and low on Halloween supplies, I had managed to snag a few containers of face paint and paintbrushes. 

 

"Today," I tell Frank and the camera, though I'm looking into the bag and pulling out my purchases, "we're gonna paint our faces with skulls! I'll do Frank's, and he'll do mine. And we'll look fucking awesome! As you all know, Mikey is away on a vacation with my mom, so we can't destroy his face with this paint..." It's true; Mikey is, indeed, visiting some friends in Virginia. He's actually with one of his small bands, and my mom is the one visiting friends. But I'm perfectly content with the company of Frank, because who _wouldn't_ be? Frank claps his hands like a retarded seal and picks up some white face paint and a late brush, deciding, "I'm going to do your face first. You're going to look wicked!"

 

Giggling, I set down the bag and roll my eyes, shifting so that my face is facing Frank. He looks at the camera and says, "I suck at painting, and I have no artistic abilities whatsoever, so this will be tons of fun!" I laugh, and he struggles to open the container. "How do you... I..." he grunts, and I sigh, taking the thing and tearing the tape. "You're so lucky you're pretty," I say sympathetically, patting his head, and he seats my hand away.

 

"Fuck off," he mutters, unscrewing the cap and setting it next to him on the bed, dipping his brush in a glass of water that I had set down next to the camera earlier. He swirls the brush around the paint and brings it up to my face. "Gerard is gonna be one sexy skeleton. I'll tell you what, he's sexy as any iconic Halloween character. He's practically a vampire with this pale as fuck skin," Frank mumbles as he begins to paint, the liquid cold and sticky.

 

I catch my breath at the contact and close my eyes, and Frank brushes over my forehead. "I know I'm sexy as any Halloween character. I'm just a sexy fucker," I reply breathlessly, and he scoffs. "But I'm sexier," he says, and I shrug. "That's true, that's true." He giggles and continues to paint, avoiding my eyes and lips and the tip and sides of my nose, as well as the sides of my cheeks. He seems to know what he's doing, so I relax a bit as I become accustomed to the cool wetness of the brush.

 

"Okay, so I have finished the white," Frank says, and shifts around a bit to find some black. I open my eyes and open them wide at the camera, faking a nervous grin, and Frank purses his lips at me. "Oh, shut up. I'm great at makeup," he tells me, and I nod. "Sure you are, and you're also very tall," I mock, and he slaps me again, figuring out the black paint container. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don't need your two cents," he murmurs as he washes out the white on the paintbrush and dips it into the black. 

 

He brings the brush to my face, ordering me to close my eyes as he paints raccoon eyes around them. When he finishes my eyes, he moves onto my nose, and then onto my cheeks. Frank is definitely the most adorable thing I've ever seen, especially when he makes a mistake and hurriedly covers it up. "No mistakes. Just happy accidents," he says in his best imitation Bob Ross, "I need a curly brown wig and a beard thing..." I laugh and shake slightly, sending the brush quivering and Frank screams like he's being stabbed. "No! You fucked it up!" he cries, dabbing at the mistake with his sleeve. 

 

This only makes me laugh harder, so Frank just waits until I stop giggling to continue. When my laughing spell is over, he resumes, finishing with a final stroke. I open my eyes and pick up a bedside mirror that I keep on my desk, analyzing my face. I don't look half bad, actually. "I present to the world of YouTube viewers," Frank announces, cupping my face carefully in his hands and turning it towards the camera, "Skeleton Gee!"

 

We smile and pause a moment. "And this is the moment where at least a hundred kids screenshot the video and post it on social media, declaring to the world how gay we are!" I say, and Frank loses it, his laughter filling my dark room, shaking the bed. He falls backwards and the video cuts, starting up again with me staring at him. "Dear God, get yourself under control," I reprimand, trying to contain my own amusement. I am quite funny, after all. I sigh and shake my head, pulling Frank back up and taking out the face paint. 

 

I prep my brush and say, "I shall now paint the King of Halloween's face to match that of a skeleton. Which shouldn't be too hard since he's already dead." Frank kicks me as I take his face into my hands, and I cry out. He laughs at my pain and defends himself, "I'm not dead. I only dress that way. So kindly fuck off." 

 

"I already do. Almost every night. In the shower, screaming–"

 

"Jesus, Gee, keep it PG!"

 

I giggle maliciously, throwing my head back, and returning to my work. I'm actually really into art; I love it with a passion. I love drawing comics and painting and sketching, and painting my face is something I love to do. In fact, I'm always trying out different designs with my eyeliner or attempting to draw bars or copying Frank's "X's", and I'm not too bad. I've taken many art classes and have spent way too much time researching thousands of techniques and styles. And it shows as I begin to paint Frank's face, my strokes diligent and experienced.

 

"One of my favorite things about Gerard is how he holds his tongue in between his teeth when he's painting or drawing," Frank mutters, trying not to move, his eyes fluttering involuntarily as I move around them. "Stahp it," he whines as I graze his eyes with the edge of a skinny brush, the black standing out against his pale skin. "Your eyes are twitching. You stop," I retort under my breath, switching out brushes and using the larger one to paint circles around his eyes. "I'm fucking trying, deal with it," he says moodily, and I draw my lips into a line.

 

However, I finish painting his face with a few more stitches over his lips, looking around my room for some black lipstick. "You're also wearing black lipstick, 'cos what's a skeleton without black lips?" I say as I apply the rarely used makeup, though I've tried it out before. He takes it from me and applies it to my own face, though a bit sloppily. We both look into the mirror and back at the camera, and Frank cries, "Ta-da!" I laugh and we do some stupid poses, knowing that the viewers are probably going to screenshot these moments. 

 

"This is the first birthday I'm celebrating with Gee," Frank says as he plays with my hands, and then looks back at the camera, "And I'm stoked. This was a great surprise, and I was able to show off my artistic abilities to you all..." 

 

"What artistic abilities?"

 

Frank punches my arm and rolls his eyes. "Even though Gerard is a little twit," he spits, elbowing me in the side, "I love him. He's been here for me when no one else was, and I know that that sounds cliché as fuck, but I'm a hopeless romantic, so I'm prone to making statements like that. But I love Gee with all of my black little heart." He finishes by pursing his lips, waiting for me to kiss him, which I do only after faking a sigh. We kiss and then return to the camera. "And I love Frank too. I hope that you all enjoyed me painting Frankie's face and him... Attempting to make my face into a skull, but that didn't turn out so... Anyways. If you liked this video, subscribe to my channel, BabyG, and to Frank's, frnkiero. Both are down below our faces, flashing right now. Follow us on all of the social media pages, from Facebook to Pinterest to Twitter to Tumblr. Remember to keep it ugly! Coffee is the best! Love you all! Bye!" I say, waving. "Bye!" Frank chimes, and we cut the video. 

 

"Fucking love you. Thank you so much for this," Frank says, tackling me onto the bed. We end up kissing and making out in the end, just like we always do. In between kisses, I try to mumble back a simple "I love you", but he always cuts me off with more kisses. "You're the best," he says, placing a final exaggerated, very grandma-like kiss on my lips. I giggle and realize that he's messed up his lipstick, but I don't mind.

 

If messing up his makeup means an awesome make out session, then I'm all for it. Sometimes I forget just how good Frank is to me, and I won't ever be able to amount to his greatness.

 

Vlogging is how I met Frank, and I'll never give it up. I'll make videos until I die, hopefully of either smoke inhalation, leading to my hysteria and causing me to hallucinate or on a flurry of fireworks flying across the border of Mexico. Either way, I'll want to spend all of those years with Frank, making videos and cuddling and all that couples' shit.

 

Because though I'm basic human trash, I'll be basic human trash with Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh I hope you all liked this, though it took ages! I tried. I really did. Thanks geeisajacketslut (Bella, potato fetus chald) for this AWESOME AF PROMPT!
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals


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